Marking Time
by Lunar1
Summary: The Doctor gains a little insight into how human beings mark time.
1. One

Occasionally time-travel had its downside.

It wasn't as if time didn't pass for them in the TARDIS, because it did. But the familiar oh-so-human markers of time were absent: weekends, bank holidays, seasons...

Keeping track of the days was difficult, the calender on her mobile phone the only constant reminder of how many days she had spent travelling with the Doctor.

Initially she had thought of 'phone time' as 'real time' but her perception of it had changed as the days had faded almost unnoticed into months.

Six months, to be precise.

She'd made a deal with herself that after one year had passed, 'phone time, then she'd go back and see her mum. Ten seconds later, as she'd promised. It made a weird kind of sense, because then she'd actually be as old as she should be.

She hadn't mentioned it to the Doctor yet. She was terrified he might think she wanted to leave, when all she really wanted to do was reassure her mother.

"Are you okay, Rose?"

He dragged her out of her reverie. They were seated at the breakfast table in the kitchen. The Doctor might not do domestic, but Rose still found it necessary to start the day with a steaming mug of tea and some toast. For someone who had professed such a dislike for something so mundane, he had been more than willing to join her in what he termed 'her strange ritual.'

"Yeah... I was just miles away."

"You've been staring at your 'phone for the last five minutes."

Feeling guilty, but not quite sure why, she pushed the machine into her pocket and took a big bite out of her toast. "So what are we doing today then, Doctor?" she asked through a mouthful of warm bread and butter.

He shrugged. "Dunno. What d'you fancy?"

"I'm not fussed."

He frowned. "You sure you're okay?"

She bit her lip as she met his concerned eyes. "Promise you won't take this funny?"

He sat back. "So something _is _wrong, then?"

She put down her crust. "No. It's just... I just realised what date it would be today. If I was still..."

She couldn't finish the sentence, he was frowning at her.

"You want out?" he asked, and to her relief there was a lurking fear in his eyes.

"No! I knew you'd take this the wrong way..."

"What then?" he asked, relieved.

"If I was still on Earth, today'd be Christmas Eve. I just realised."

"Oh!" he exclaimed, "You want presents."

She flicked a crumb at him. "No. I just realised is all. And..." He was looking at her with laughter in his eyes now and she felt more than a little silly. "And I just felt sad because I 'aven't put up a Christmas tree. Go on, laugh."

He grinned from ear to ear instead. "I thought Christmas was a religious festival?"

"S'pose it is," she conceded, "But for me, Christmas has always been about decorating the tree more than Jesus." For some unfathomable reason she felt rather guilty about her confession. "Guess I'm a product of my time."

"Nah. If you were really a paid up member of the consumer society it'd all be about the presents. Decorating trees is a bit better." He appeared to reach a decision about something. "Right. Let's do Christmas then. You, me, TARDIS and tinsel. Sound good?"

"Sounds _fantastic_."


	2. Two

Delicate flakes of snow were dancing in the air as she pushed open the TARDIS door. Even with her hat, scarf and gloves as well as a thick coat, she still felt cold. The Doctor followed her outside, dressed as always in jumper and leather jacket. She supposed his double circulatory system was some help in the cold, and then smiled at her own thought. The jaunts to the TARDIS library were paying off. Determined to improve her knowledge to the point where she no longer had to be reliant on the Doctor for every little piece of information, the fact finding sessions had proved to be _very_ educational.

The pine forest seemed to stretch out around them in every conceivable direction, little slices of sky visible through the sparse canopy of the trees.

The Doctor clapped his hands together. "Right. Here we are. Pick your tree, Rose Tyler."

She laughed. "They're all huge!"

"We'll have to find some smaller, then." He past her, his feet leaving tracks in the snow. Realising she wasn't following him, he turned back to face her. "Come o–"

The snowball smacked into his shoulder, cutting him off. He brushed the half-melted snow off his jacket as she laughed at him, torn between laughing and shouting.

"You're going to regret that!" he yelled, scooping up a large handful of snow.

She shrieked and jumped down from the TARDIS, running in between the trees. He drew back his arm, aimed and–

_SMACK!_

She'd hit him again before he'd released the snowball, diving behind a tree for cover. He broke into a run, chasing after her with the snow melting in his hand. Her knitted scarf was flying out behind her as she ran as fast as she could, but his longer legs assured him victory.

"Gotcha!" he shouted, grabbing her by the back of her jacket. She yelled as he roughly shoved the handful of snow down the neck of her coat, before releasing her and retreating to construct a new snowball.

"Urgh! Doctor, it's all down my back!"

"You started it!" he yelled, and lobbed the snowball at her. She stopped it with her hand, causing it to break into clumps.

"Bully!" she retaliated, hastily producing a new missile. When she looked up from the snow, he seemed to have disappeared.

She backed against a tree, glancing left and right, looking for where black leather broke the whiteness of the snow.

A hand unceremoniously dumped a load of snow on her head. He's snuck round behind her and reached around the tree trunk. She grabbed his jacket as he tried to retreat, releasing her own snowball and catching him on the back of the head. The shock of the blow made him jump and he tripped over an inconvenient tree root, pulling Rose down with him as she was still clinging to the back of his coat.

They rolled in the snow and he suddenly found himself nose to nose with his breathless companion, her cheeks flushed red with the cold and childish excitement. Something stirred in the pit of his stomach and he found he was looking at her lips, her weight welcome on top of him. But Rose was looking past him, over his head. "The perfect tree," she said, glancing down at him before scrambling off him. He picked himself up, trying to shake off his unusual moment of longing, to see his companion brushing the snow off the needles of a sizeable pine, well over six feet in height.

"That the one?" he asked.

She nodded. "Is it okay?"

He grinned, producing the sonic screwdriver. "If you're prepared to help me drag it back into the TARDIS."


	3. Three

They'd decided to have Christmas in one of her favourite rooms in the TARDIS, a relic of a previous regeneration when he'd had a bit of a penchant for antique wooden furniture, deep carpets and large, ornate fireplaces. He preferred things more functional in his current incarnation, and, it had to be said, less human, but Rose liked it. Even he was forced to admit, though, that it looked rather festive with the huge tree successfully installed.

He was admiring his handiwork when Rose touched his shoulder lightly. "You sure you're okay with this, Doctor? It's not too domestic for you?"

Her tone was light but he suspected her query was serious.

"Whatever makes you happy, Rose," he answered without thinking, and she blinked in surprise. He cleared his throat, awkward for a moment, and hastily attempted to cover his tracks. "It's no fun if you're moping around the place," he added with a casual shrug.

She gave him a look that suggested that she had seen through him. "Right," she said, "Decorations."

He thought for a moment. "I haven't got any."

"Oh."

His grin returned. "But I know a place where we can get some. To the wardrobe, Rose! Think turn of the century, Victorian England."

She rejoined him in the control room breathless, cloaked and corseted in a mere ten minutes. He held out his arm to her. "Shall we go?"

The TARDIS has materialised in an alley. Strolling casually into the street, Rose gasped.

The frost fair was in full swing, tradesmen shouting to be heard over the din. Christmas tree decorations, the like of which she had never seen before, sparkled on the nearest store. They put the plastic baubles she had lovingly placed on her pathetic artificial tree every year with her mum to shame. Glass and metal reflected the bright, winter's sunshine, matching the frost which glittered underfoot. She was about to take a step forward, but the Doctor's hold on her arm made her stop.

She turned to him and he handed her a wad of bank-notes. "You can buy everything on his stall with that," he told her. "Don't spend it all at once. And stay out of trouble!"

"You not shopping with me?" she asked.

He grimaced. "Not my thing Rose. Besides, I can't get you a present if you're with me."

"You don't 'ave to get me anything. This has been more than–"

"Shut up and go enjoy yourself."

She sighed with happiness, planted a quick kiss on his cheek and positively skipped out into the marketplace.

Unthinkingly his fingers reached up to touch his cheek where her lips had brushed his skin. He was sure her gesture of thanks had been unconscious, unconsidered. It didn't _mean_ anything.

But, all the same, there was a spring in his step as he headed in the opposite direction to his young companion, and a smile on his face that was rather different to the manic one he so often wore.

* * *

When he returned to the TARDIS Rose had already changed back into her twenty-first century clothes and completely decorated the tree, correctly assuming that placing baubles and trinkets was not his thing.

There were paper streamers stretching from the corners of the room and a garland strung across the mantlepiece. The tree glittered in the light of a low fire and several lit candles. Rose had chosen a red and silver colour scheme, the delicate decorations made from real glass held in place with ribbons, neatly tied.

She was fiddling with something on one of the lower branches, but felt his presence rather than heard him and turned.

"What do you think?" she asked, face a picture of concern.

"Fantastic!" he enthused, meaning it in spite of his normal disdain for all things domestic. Aesthetically, his tastes might be different to his companion's, but he could appreciate how well her chosen decorations fitted with the architecture and furnishings of the room, and the effort that had gone into their arrangement.

She smiled and shrugged her shoulders, hands sliding into her pockets. "What now?"

"What do you normally do now?"

She sighed. "Sit around and watch Christmas Eve television," she said. "I was 'oping you might have a better idea."

He hesitated. "Yeah, actually. I have. I think it's time I cooked you a proper meal. Something that tastes better for less calories than chips."

"A proper dinner for two?" she asked, her tone almost mocking.

He nodded. "Yeah. Nothing wrong with that, is there? Two companions, friends if you will, eating a nice meal together."

"Nothing wrong with it at all," she replied, but there was a slight misgiving in her eyes.

"And I'll even wear something a bit smarter than my leather jacket," he said, determined to seal the deal.

"Wow. I feel honoured."

"Here. An hour's time."

"Fant–"she began, and caught herself. "I think you're rubbing off on me," she said with a grin.


	4. Four

She dressed carefully, not sure if her choice of attire was entirely sensible. There was always a... a tension between herself and the Doctor, and sometimes she felt it more than others. But something different was happening here, something that had been in the making for a long while, she suspected, and something that terrified her as much as it excited her.

The Doctor's face, as she rounded the corner still in two minds about her dress, made her certain she had made the right choice.

"You like?" she asked, laughing and twirling around for him to get a better view.

The Doctor picked his jaw up from off the floor. "Absolutely stunning. Where did you pick that up?"

She scratched her ear, expression sheepish. "Can't quite remember."

He knew she was lying but he didn't care. The floaty material, a many hued red with tiny, sparkling gems glittering here and there, clung to her figure. Legs that were normally encased in jeans or tracksuit bottoms were for once on display, matching the hint of cleavage.

"You don't look so bad yourself," she added shyly.

He glanced down. "It's just clothes."

"It's more than clothes. I didn't think you owned anything that smart."

He shrugged, swallowing as she stepped closer and her perfume filled his world. She touched his shoulder, the fabric of his suit softer than she had expected to the touch. He gestured to the door. "Dinner?"

She pushed open the door and gasped. He'd set up a table for two, candles, elegant wine glasses, the lot. He ushered her into a seat.

She met his eyes across the table, a lump in her throat. "Thank you Doctor," she murmured. "This...means a lot... to me."

He smiled, and pulled back the lid of the tureen. It was exactly as she had expected it to be: completely unrecognisable. She followed his lead, loading her plate with the strange mixture of... things. Tentatively taking a bite she was relieve to find that despite their alien appearance, whatever it was he had cooked was actually quite delicious.

He poured a red liquid into her wine glass. "Try it," he said, before taking a deep draught from his own glass.

She did as instructed. It was red wine, not her normal tipple, but pleasant enough. She suspected it was rather more expensive than the bit she had previously tasted, purchased from the Sainsbury's wine-rack.

They sank into the twin armchairs that faced the fire after eating, pleasantly full. After watching the dancing flames for a while he felt moved to speak. "I can see what you humans like about Christmas after all. I mean, it's a bit of an effort to do everyday... but it's nice for a special occasion."

"This isn't really _Christmas_ though," she said, feeling she had unfairly represented a pretty major religious celebration. "Christmas is just my excuse."

He cleared his throat. "I believe that another excuse Christmas provides involves presents."

"I 'ope you 'aven't got me anything," she said, "Because all this's been the best Christmas present I could ever've 'ad."

He sighed. "All this 'oh-you-shouldn't-have' is one Christmas tradition I can do without," he said. He stood up and paused for a moment, uncertain. "Do I have to blindfold you, or will you keep your eyes shut?"

There was a devilish look on her face. "Depends what you 'ave in mind," she purred, and the laughed at her own absurdity. The Doctor merely looked thoughtful for a moment.

"Promise you'll keep them shut?"

"Yeah." She closed her eyes obediently, ignoring the pounding of her heart in her chest.

It felt like an eternity before he spoke again. All the hairs on the back of her neck stood up as he whispered in her ear: "You can open your eyes."

"It's... uh..." she swallowed to clear the lump in her throat, "It's beautiful."

It was a silver locket, fairly small, the sort that could be worn all the time and remain unnoticed under a tee shirt. A tiny pink gem glittered at the centre of an ornate design carved into the front of it. She stared at it for a moment and realised it was a flower. A rose, to be precise.

"It's empty," he said, "But I know a great artist who can do you some portraits for it. Of whoever, whatever you want."

"Thank you," she said, ashamed to find her eyes were full of tears.

"You're welcome, Rose," he replied softly, glad he had elicited such a response. He wiped away a tear that had spilled from her overloaded eyes onto her cheek with a callused thumb.

She sniffed. "I, uh, I got something for you, too." He closed the jewellery box and put it on the small table next to the chair as she stood up and guided him into her vacated seat. "Close your eyes."

He obeyed and heard her move away. There was a rustle; he thought she was near the tree. Maybe pulling something out from underneath it...?

"Stop trying to guess what I'm doing." He heard her take a deep breath. "You can open your eyes now."

He opened them. She was chewing her lip nervously, a box in her hands wrapped up in coloured paper. He seemed confused. "You 'ave to unwrap it," she explained.

"Oh." He took it from her and tore the wrapping paper, revealing an exquisitely wooden box. He opened it gently. Inside there was a pocket watch, open to reveal the face and hands.

"I couldn't think of anything to get you," she confessed, "But a watch seemed... right for a Time Lord. And you can put a picture in the other side. Of whoever, whatever you want. Guess great minds think alike?"

He smiled, taking it out of the box and closing it gently. "I like it."

She picked up her jewellery box and opened it again to reveal her locket, smiling. "Would you mind...?" she asked.

He shook his head and took the necklace from her, placing it gently around her neck. She enjoyed the feel of his fingers sweeping across her neck as he did the clasp. He turned her around gently to see how it looked.

"Beautiful," he said, although his eyes were locked on hers rather than the locket, making her wonder to what exactly he was referring.

He was too close to her, his face full of an emotion she didn't dare to name, eyes dark. He was still holding her by her arms, his grip ever so slightly too tight.

"'Appy Christmas Doctor," she said, because she had to say something.

"Happy Christmas Rose," he agreed. He was still gripping her arms.

Something snapped inside her as she watched him, frozen with indecision for once. The Doctor, who always knew where he was going and what he was doing, didn't have a clue what to do, for once.

So, for once, she was going to make the decision for him.

She kissed him quickly, on the lips. His eyes closed for a brief moment and she kissed him again, lingering a little longer this time.

"Rose..." he whispered, "We can't..."

"Why not?" she asked, her voice cracking.

"It's not right."

She made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. "Not right?"

"I shouldn't... you're my companion. You shouldn't be anything more to me than my companion." His forehead was resting against hers now, his hands sliding to her waist.

"Why not?" she asked again, kissing the tip of his nose with infinite gentleness.

"It's my rule."

"Why? What kind of a rule is that?" She kissed him again.

"...Rose..."

"I love you." It was a bald statement, in tone more like something she would shout in an argument, not a whispered declaration.

It seemed to decide him. He kissed her fiercely, pulling her close to him in a rib-squeezing embrace. When he broke away there was still the same intense look in his eyes. "I love you too. But if we do this... if this is what you want..."

"Do what?" she asked, a smile playing around her mouth.

He understood what she was referring to, but shook his head. "Not that. I meant... I meant acknowledge..."

"The feelings?" she prompted.

"The feelings," he agreed, "That we have for each other. There's no going back, is there?"

She kissed him a third time. "Why does this 'ave to be so complicated? I love you. You love me. What else matters?"

He appeared to consider this for a moment, and smiled. "Nothing." He laughed. "That's _why _I love you, Rose Tyler. You look at the universe in a different way."

She shook her head. "You think too much."

"You're right," he said, laughing now, his mood as always changing lightening fast. His lips met hers again. "Less thinking."

"I 'ope that's the sonic screwdriver in your pocket," she said, when they broke for breath.

"It's in the control room."

The devilish grin was back. "So... I take it Galifreyan anatomy...?"

"You should know. You've left that xeno-biology book out in the Library enough times."

She blushed. "Well, I 'ad to wonder. With you having two hearts an' all..."


End file.
